Between Deadlines And Desires

CHAPTER ONE(THE INTERVIEW)

Natalie

The first thing I noticed about Cole Industries wasn’t the glass towers scraping the Ontario sky, or the intimidating marble lobby that echoed with every hesitant step I took. It was the silence. The kind that wraps around you, reminding you that you’re nothing in a place like this.

I clutched my thrift-store blazer tighter, trying not to wrinkle it as I scanned the waiting area outside the executive offices. I shouldn’t have been here. Not in these secondhand heels that pinched, not with exactly twelve dollars left in my account, and definitely not with my last shot at rent hinging on a single interview.

But Sophie needed me. My sister deserved a chance at college, a life outside the tiny apartment that smelled of old books and instant coffee. She still believed I could fix everything, that her big sister could hold the world together with duct tape and a smile. I didn’t have the heart to tell her how close we were to everything falling apart. My phone buzzed in my bag, a cracked screen lighting up with Sophie’s text: “You’ll get it, Nat. You always do. Love you.”

I exhaled, pressing a hand over my chest, willing the anxiety to settle.“Miss Natalie Brooks?” A sharp voice snapped me back to the lobby. A woman with sleek hair and an even sleeker black suit stood with a clipboard, eyes cool. I stood quickly, ignoring the way my knees threatened to wobble.“Yes,” I managed. “Follow me.”

We walked through endless glass hallways, light pouring in and bouncing off polished floors. Everything smelled like cold air and lemon cleaner, and the people we passed moved quickly, purposefully, like they knew exactly where they were going.I tried not to shrink under their eyes, clutching my resume folder like it was a lifeline. We stopped in front of frosted glass doors with the name Adrian Cole etched in black letters. My stomach twisted.

The clipboard woman knocked once and opened the door. Mr Cole will see you now.” She stepped aside, and I stepped in. The office was… cold. Large windows stretched across one side, revealing a skyline of steel and clouds. A sleek desk sat in the middle, and standing beside it, phone pressed to his ear, was Adrian Cole himself.

He was taller than I expected, broad-shouldered in a dark suit that probably cost more than my rent for six months. His hair was dark, neatly styled, and his face was the kind you didn’t forget— sharp jaw, straight nose, and eyes so gray they looked like winter. Those eyes flicked to me for the briefest second before he turned back to the window.“No,” he said into the phone, his voice low but carrying a steel edge that made the air feel tighter. “If they can’t deliver by Friday, we walk.” Silence, then he ended the call, sliding the phone onto his desk with controlled precision.

He turned, and for the first time, those gray eyes focused fully on me.“Natalie Brooks,” he said, like he was testing the sound of my name. I nodded, throat suddenly dry. “Yes, sir.” “Sit.” he said. I sat, knees brushing the edge of the cold metal chair, clutching my folder tighter. He didn’t sit. He leaned against the edge of his desk, arms folding across his chest, gaze sharp and assessing as it swept over me. It wasn’t inappropriate, but it was thorough, and it made my skin prickle.“ University of Toronto graduate. Communications.” His eyes lifted to mine. “GPA, average. Work experience includes a print shop that closed and a café . Why are you here, Miss Brooks?”

My fingers tightened on the folder. “Because I need this job.” ,“ Need,” he echoed, one brow lifting slightly. “Need doesn’t equate to qualified.”I swallowed, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “I’m qualified, and I’m willing to work harder than anyone else.” “Everyone says that.” “But not everyone means it.” Something flickered in his eyes. Amusement, maybe, or interest, but it vanished so quickly I wondered if I imagined it.

He moved finally, sitting behind his desk, tapping a pen once against a file. The sound was loud in the quiet room.“Why did you leave your last job?” “I didn’t. The shop closed.” “And the café ?” ,“I needed something with more stability.”He leaned back, studying me like I was a puzzle he hadn’t decided was worth solving yet. “Stability is rare in this world, Miss Brooks.”

“I’m aware,” I said softly, thinking of overdue bills, Sophie’s hopeful eyes, and the eviction notice folded under the sugar jar at home.The corner of his mouth moved, a ghost of a smirk before it disappeared. He picked up my folder, flipping it open, scanning quickly. His eyes stilled on the photo of me clipped inside, the only professional one I could afford, taken against a blank wall in my apartment.

“You’re aware this is not a charity position .” “Yes.” ,“ And that I don’t tolerate incompetence.”

“Yes.” “And that this job will demand more than hours you’re used to.” “Yes,” I said again, louder this time. He closed the folder, setting it down carefully. The silence stretched until I could hear the clock ticking on the wall behind me.

“Why do you want to work here?” he asked finally, softer, but the softness didn’t make it less intimidating. I inhaled. “Because I want to be somewhere that challenges me, and I need to prove to myself—and others—that I’m capable of more.” His gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the skyline, the ticking clock, the fear clawing at the edges of my mind. It was just him and me, and I wondered if he could see every fear I was trying to hide.

A knock broke the moment.

A young assistant poked her head in, eyes darting nervously between us. “Mr. Cole, the board is waiting.”His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Reschedule.” The assistant blinked. “Sir?” ,“I said, reschedule.” His voice didn’t rise, but it didn’t need to.She left, closing the door quietly behind her. My heart thudded against my ribs.

He stood, walking around the desk until he was in front of me, and I had to tilt my head back to keep looking into those gray eyes.

“You start tomorrow,” he said.

For a heartbeat, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Then I nodded, standing shakily, clutching the folder he handed back to me.

“Thank you, Mr. Cole.” His gaze dipped to my trembling hands, then back to my eyes, unreadable. “Don’t make me regret it.” I slipped out of the office before my knees could give way, the door clicking shut behind me as I exhaled, pressing a hand over my racing heart.

I got the job.

But as I walked out of Cole Industries, the cold air biting at my skin, I couldn’t shake the feeling that getting this job might

be the easy part.